The young colt struggled to raise himself over the lip of the roof. He managed to knock over his previously-assembled stack of barrels as he swung his back leg up and over. Once he was sure all of his limbs were on a stable surface, he stood up. He almost lost his balance as the thatched roof threatened to let go of his hooves. The texture of the roof caught his eye, and he started to study it with a newfound curiosity.
He admired the way each piece wove over and under each other, the angles some of them- he shook his head. Right. The test. The roof could wait, but the test had to be completed as soon as possible. With a look of determination in his eyes, he proceeded up to the crest of the roof and looked out over the street. The late afternoon sun reflected off of the cobbled road and into his eyes. That might be a problem, he thought to himself. However, it was too late to turn back now.
He glanced down at his hooves to ensure his apparatus was secure. Everything looked okay. He flexed his hooves a few times as he checked the piece on his back. In, out. In, out. All clear. All that was left was to make sure his makeshift wings could actually keep him in the air. Returning his gaze back to the Canterlot street stretched out before him, he started to mentally prepare himself for his first field test. Well, the first field test with this particular model, that was.
That thought brought a jumble of worries, most pertaining to the consequences of a failed test. What if the hinges jammed? What if his hooves tired out before he could make a safe landing? Just what would his mother do to him if she found out he was out doing something this dangerous, this late?
His mind reflected on the hours of work that went into this moment. His initial prototype which was essentially an ironing board strapped to his back. His next main revision consisting of bed sheets and wire hangers. Another version where the wings created too much drag and snapped themselves off.
He winced inwardly as he reminded himself of the unique injuries from each failed test. He chuckled to himself as he realized that he saw his doctor far too often than was likely good for his health. He started to wonder what the totals of all his recent hospital bills were.
He shook his head again. It was too late to worry about those things now. Before his doubts could return, he leaped forward and flexed his hooves, bringing the mock wings out to their full span. He closed his eyes and braced for impact.
After a few moments, nothing happened. Moments turned into seconds. He spared a glance downward and found he was drifting along above the road with what little speed his tiny legs had given him when he jumped. It worked! Could it be? Could he have finally cracked the secret to pegasus flight?
He returned his attention to the air in front of him. Up ahead, another road branched off to the left. Now, he decided, was the time to test his theories on turning. He started to relax his left hoof.
Oh, dear, that was not the right direction at all. He braced himself in a feeble attempt to block the wall careening toward his face. Luckily for the little colt, ponies were practically built to withstand hard falls; or, in this case, a mischievous wall wanting to get to know a pony’s face much, much better.
The young earth pony took a few moments to gather himself after the ground became jealous of the wall. Unfortunately for the little colt, ponies were not known for being immune to gravity. After standing up, he assessed the damage done to both himself and his contraption. The right wing, made out of a copper tube he had found, was fully extended and had broken on impact. He’d have to find a replacement for that. He winced as he returned his head to a forward position. Great, now his neck was hurt, and if the pounding in his head was anything to go by, he was bound to have a large bruise all over his face.
He sighed. His mother was going to have a fit about that, not to mention his dangerous antics right before curfew. With another sigh, he started home, dreading the inevitable punishment the entire way as he prepared for yet another dessert-less night.
After a block or two, the broken – but still attached – right wing brushed his side. Slightly startled, he looked back up at his failed creation. No, not failed, he reminded himself. He had been gliding over the cobblestones before trying to turn, hadn’t he?
He allowed himself a smile. Perhaps the test hadn’t been a total failure, after all. He would have to later research how pegasai turned (which amounted to asking his friend at school – without being too obvious about it, of course), sure, but that could wait.
He turned his head forward once more – causing him to wince again – and resumed walking home. His smile grew a tad wider as a realization hit him. He had created enough lift to keep himself in the air! This was cause to celebrate, he decided. His eyes turned skyward as he started to debate which stashed piece of chocolate he should sacrifice for the celebration.
He returned to reality as he saw a familiar door. From beyond, he could smell the aroma of his favorite dish wafting through the cracks. Caesar salad. He licked his lips. Before his hoof could reach the door, he stopped himself and looked on his back to the mish-mash of parts that had previously been the highlight of his day.
Unfortunately, these two high points of his day would most likely go against each other once his mom caught sight of him. For a moment, he considered sneaking in through his bedroom window.
He shook his head once again. With a look of determination in his eyes, he reached for the door once more. He had achieved a feat in science that day, and he was going to walk in there with his head held high.
He opened the door and walked in.
